The Prince's Diary
by jenamy
Summary: "Darling, switching out those atrocious bow-ties for an actual tie, snipping some hair and banishing that hideous coat of yours is not that drastic. Besides, now everyone will be able to see you." "I was just fine being invisible." Dean/Castiel slash . AU. Warnings and such other things inside. Rated for later content.
1. I never could get the hang of Thursdays

**Hello! I'm giving this pairing another go. :)**

**Disclaimer: Obviously anything you recognize is not my own.**

**_WARNINGS_: AU('cause we all tackle one at some point). OOC(definitely throwing this out there). Slash(Dean/Castiel; not your thing, kindly piss off). All HUMAN.**

**I just finished reading The Princess Diaries today and for some reason this popped into my head. The book's a bit more off-kilter and way less Disney like the film. This is going to be loosely based off that plot. **

**I also shouldn't be starting another story, but I'm kind of blocked on **_Hands Clean_**, it's my Criminal Minds fic and current WIP...well besides this one now.**

**All that being said, here goes nothing...**

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**Thursday: 25th April**

I suppose there are worse things that could happen to me, then again, one of my favorite quotes can come in handy—"I never could get the hang of Thursdays." Of all my Thursdays to date, today is definitely the one that takes the hamburger. I know it should say cake, but I don't like cake as much as I love burgers; you know what, I just need to get it out of me.

I can't even write it—usually I have NO PROBLEM unleashing everything that's wrong or upsetting me with written word, but today; there are no words. NONE.

I could say it's all Michael's fault, then again, he is my father; I am supposed to respect him. I could blame Becky, or as I like to refer to her, Mom. For some unfathomable reason they copulated during their college years and I was their gift. The man with a stick so far shoved up an unpleasant location and the most "free-spirited" girl on campus hit it off. OBVIOUSLY it didn't last, but I never put two and two together; I never asked where the ridiculous amount of "child support" came from every month because I never asked exactly what Michael did. No, the better question should be WHO he is.

I can't even tell Sam and he's my best friend! He's already started asking me why I've passed off on some of our study sessions; Mom's tired of making excuses too. Another thing, she's dating Mr. Shurley, my ENGLISH teacher! MY FRIGGIN TEACHER! Does she have any idea how that can drastically traumatize the remainder of my high school career? I have a year and a half left of this hell-hole. I don't even care if they compliment each other in the best (most awkward) of ways!

I'm a prince, or I will be once Grandmother arrives and teaches me the ways of royalty; boy does she have her work cut out for her! No one talks to me (outside Sam) and I'm about as socially awkward as a person can be. Apparently my brain short-circuits because I don't talk like a "normal" person. I'm always getting lost in conversations, but that's beside the point!

Grandmother arrives tomorrow.

On top of the pop quiz (Thanks for the heads up!), the detention for putting Zach in his place, AND the tutoring in math with Mr. Singer, I have to go to the only fancy hotel in our small city for lessons with grandma. Ugh, I can't even call her that—"it's unbecoming of a woman of my status Castiel. It's Grandmother or madam." At least I know where the stick up dad's you-know-what came from. Glad it skipped my genes!

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**I believe I spotted all of my errors; if I'm mistaken, please let me know.**

**I'm also open to all sorts of feedback.**

**PS: Updates will be random at best. **


	2. Who knew

"Fine, but you _will_ be able to make it to the competition Tuesday right? You know that we're the only chance our school has."

I sighed into the phone.

"I will run it by my family; things are complicated right now. I do apologize and believe me, if I could tell you, I would."

"Yeah, I hear ya. The Jerk's home, he needs the phone…are you picking me up again?"

I sighed again.

"Yes, I hope that is alright. I no longer have a choice in the matter, but if it embarrasses you, I can ask Balthazar not to pick you up."

"No! It, it's fine Cas, I just think it's weird you suddenly have all the stuff you do. No I'm not going to make fun of your hair, if I can help it; I just now know why you kept it long."

I could hear his smile through the phone.

"I will see you in the morning Sam. Have a good night."

"You too Cas. See ya."

-x-

"Come on sweet pea, let's get a move on 'fore that Mum of yours tries to feed me whatever it is she attempted to pass off as breakfast. I'll even speed and get us a nice breakfast sandwich from that shop you like."

I groaned and hit my head against the bathroom door.

"You don't _understand_ Balthazar, these people haven't seen me since _madam_'s little make-over."

His chuckle slipped through the door.

"Darling, switching out those atrocious bow-ties for an actual tie, snipping some hair and banishing that hideous coat of yours is not that drastic. Besides, now everyone will be able to see _you_."

I wrenched the door open and stared up at him.

"I was just fine being invisible. No one spoke to me, no one bothered me—my biggest problem was fighting this never ending battle against algebra!"

"Cassie, you'll be late! I put some money on the counter for you for lunch. I've invited Chuck over for dinner tonight and we'll both be attending your competition tomorrow. I'm off to the studio, love you!"

I knew better than to reply, she'd already be out the door and down the stairs before I could get a word out. A hand ruffled my hair and I glared up at the man.

"Chin up; I'll even get that giant of yours his complex breakfast burrito."

"_Fine_."

I took my school bag he was holding out for me and stalked passed him. Snatching the money off the counter as we both made our way to the door.

"We should get the food first; it will help lessen the blow when Sam sees me."

"Sure, sure."

-x-

I begged Balthazar to knock on the door—Dean was on their porch. One of the few at the top of my list of people I did not want to see me like this for as long as possible. He'd do nothing but mock me and I was already a bundle of nerves waiting on Sam's reaction.

I watched as Balthy and Sam made their way to the car; before Sam could duck down I thrust out his burrito and cup of hot chocolate.

"Yes, these are a bribe. I ask, no _beg_, you keep an open mind."

He folded his tall frame into the backseat next to me and stared, tightening his grip on his breakfast. I tilted my head to the side and simply waited.

"Who knew that many cowlicks were possible on one human head?"

He grinned before taking a large sip of his drink. I smiled slightly in return. We were going to be just fine—it's everyone else I had to worry about now.

Balthazar dropped us off a block away as requested; he'd be around. He always is now.

"Dean asked why some dude picked me up this morning and not Cas; I had to tell him that you were picking me up, you just didn't want to see his ugly mug first thing."

I fidgeted with my bag strap and nodded. I could pass this momentary lapse of silence due to the fact we were approaching the doors to our school; I always did have the knack for being awkward.

"So I'll see you in Mr. Singer's class—which I still can't believe you're failing—and don't forget, we have a practice tonight. One last cramming session for tomorrow; see ya Cas!"

With that he was gone in the mass of students. I slinked into homeroom and sat in my assigned seat and dug out my journal.

**Monday: 29th April**

At least Sam didn't laugh at me, at least not to my face. I hate that Mr. Singer is both my homeroom and then first period algebra teacher. I get him extra long every morning and then again in the afternoon for tutoring. I can't even use this added stress of my new home life as an excuse!

Dean Winchester has an ugly mug? Never. At least not to me; which is something I have to ask someone about. Is it okay that the next supposed crown prince of wherever the speck of land is, isn't the biggest fan of female companionship? I tried it once, well technically twice, but that second time was slightly unwilling on my part. Never let the innocent looks of Anna Milton and Meg Masters fool you; they're both harlots! Anna's brother Gabriel figured out I had let her down—it was done gently! I was completely honest with her too! How he managed to steal my trench coat and then temporarily dye it an obnoxious shade of pink still astounds me to this day.

Great, I'm being hailed.

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**Thanks for the alerts! A special thank you to: TerrorInYerBathtub (I like your name, it's quite clever!) & A. Ricardo. I appreciate your reviews! Hope you still like this! :)**


	3. She thought he was charming

_Later_ **Monday: 25****th**** April**

I'm hiding in the bathroom at Grandmother's hotel. I should also point out it's the ladies room. Grandmother wouldn't think about searching me out here. She tells me that I'm to be ready for a ball—a friggin' ball!—where she'll make the grand revelation to my being the heir.

Sam has called my mobile phone a totally of twenty-three times now; Grandmother has caused me to miss our final debate team practice for tomorrow's competition. I even told her she was forcing me to miss out on my current education; I attempted the whole extracurricular activities notion too.

"Elementary education is nothing Castiel; it's your post-secondary that will matter, have you chosen your potential university yet?"

College? Of course I've thought about college! I've thought about the fact that my high school does little to nothing notifying students about how important and life-altering going to college is. Choosing where to go isn't just putting some names in a hat and giving it a good shake. It's an institution that will house me, feed me, and educate me in what I hope to do for the rest of my life; I'm to make that decision at sixteen.

What if I waste those four years? What if I don't like what I chose to make a career out of by the time I'm writing my senior paper?

I just want to get through my junior year of high school; my plate's loaded to the point where I'm holding it in both hands, walking slow and steady and the meatball has just rolled off, and the pasta salad has a droplet of dressing dangling precariously off the edge.

-x-

"Castiel, I have permitted you your sulking half-hour."

I quickly slammed my journal shut and stumbled out of the stall. I tilted my head at the woman before me—she was in jeans and a blouse. She raised her brow.

"Don't look at me like you've never seen me like this before; granted you haven't, but I was listening earlier and I realize that—while I know it's for the best for you—your father and I have placed a lot of unnecessary stress upon you. You have a debate competition tomorrow evening; your teammates are still at school practicing, yes?"

I shook my head.

"No. It's eight; they'll all be home for a late dinner with their families."

"Very well, let's get ourselves dinner then. How about you show me where you and that friend of yours like to go, Samuel right?"

She turned without waiting for a response. I could only follow her out into the hall. Crowley, her version of Balthazar, was standing just a few paces away.

"We won't be needing you or Balthazar, Castiel is going to take me to dinner."

His eyes widened a fraction, but he nodded and made a gesture down the hall over my shoulder.

"Sweet pea, just give me a ring when you're ready to return home."

I turned to glance at Balthazar's hand as he disappeared around a corner.

I was alone with my grandmother for the first time in, well, _ever_.

-x-

_3a.m._ **Tuesday: 26****th**** April**

I am still in awe, or shock rather, at what occurred last night. Grandmother met Dean—Sam's brother Dean, THAT DEAN! And she liked him!

"You must be Samuel." "No, ma'am, I'm Dean, Sammy's _big_ brother." "Castiel, you didn't tell me Samuel had a brother." I could have died of mortification after that. Dean turned on his smarm like no other female was in the café.

She thought he was charming and a wonderfully talented musician, he must come from a family of geniuses. Did she not hear me when I told her Sam's the captain of our debate team? Dean Winchester is NOT charming, he's uncouth and a Neanderthal…I don't care if he can make my knees weak and my heart stutter when he sits up on a piano bench and switches between playing the piano and his acoustic guitar and singing. I don't.

I need to be up in two hours and I've only slept for the last four. It will be my fault our team loses tonight—oh god, tonight! Mom and Mr. Shurley AND Grandmother will be attending; that also means Crowley and Balthazar will be lurking about like the profession creepers they are.

"This one's for Cassie." HOW could I FORGET he did that? Dean freaking Winchester sang ME a song, IN FRONT OF EVERYONE! Even my grandmother! She even asked him who "Cassie" was; was she a moron? I at least reveled in the slight blush that covered Dean's face. I think that's the only time I've ever seen him embarrassed.


	4. They're no you

The door jerked open and I groaned inwardly. There standing in practically all of his half-naked glory was the one Winchester I did not want to open the door. I'd even take the brusque morning grunts of John over _Dean_.

"Why good morning _Cassie_, you never told _me_ your grandmother was in town; she's quite the firecracker. I can see where you get your smashing personality from."

I raised my brow.

"My personality has nothing to do with my relatives; is Sam ready to leave?"

He took a step forward causing me to step back; he pressed forward into my personal space.

"Personal space Dean; learn it."

He smirked.

"Sammy wi—"

"Can speak for himself! Why are you out here in your underwear?"

His cheeks tinged a light pink. He stood taller, well as tall as one can when being compared to Sam, squared his shoulders and crossed his arms in defense.

"They're boxers you moron."

"Still a type of underwear."

"Get out of here bitch."

"Jerk."

They grinned at each other; Dean ruffled Sam's hair as he and I headed down the steps to the limo. Balthazar stood at the back door with a raised brow over his sunglasses.

"Madam thought _that_ was charming?"

He smirked as Sam and I climbed in; once settled Sam questioned what he meant.

"I took my grandmother to that café we go to some afternoons. We ran into Dean."

He leveled me with a stare.

"Not possible. He says only pansies like us go there, plus he was picking up an extra shift at the shop."

His family didn't know—interesting. I shrugged.

"Maybe he was there on a date? I overhear a lot of girls requesting it as one of their potential date locations."

He nodded.

"Possibly, he's fond of not telling Mom and Dad about his _conquests_. Regardless, I believe tonight will be our final success and we'll be permitted to head to State. So long as we don't let Jess or Anna answer any of the tough questions. I mean they're both brilliant, but I mean, they're no us."

"You mean they're no you."

He shoved me.

"Come on Cas, you're like second in our class, well except for math. How are you failing that again? You know Bobby offers tutoring too."

"Can you not refer to Mr. Singer as Bobby? I have to remind him of the same thing when he asks after you and your brother. For some reason he has it in his mind that small talk is appropriate since we share a mutual person. And yes, I partake in his tutelage after school."

He stared at me, as if he were attempting to read the depths of me; it was unnerving sometimes. He claims I'm a beast at it, but I imagine if he were to glance in a mirror, he too would be uncomfortable with that kind of stare.

"Are you sure you're alright? I mean I know you say you have something big going down with family and all as of late, but you're not you."

I stared at him; he looked slightly apprehensive. Good.

"I am quite myself. I am merely under a lot of stress."

"About things you _can't_ or _won't_ tell me. I'm your best friend Cas; it's what we're supposed to do!"

Dean would point out just how girly that is—come to think of it, I don't think he has a best friend. Not the point.

"I just can't tell you. However, I know how to show you, you'll just have to trust me and give me time."

He nodded then turned his attention out the window. Great, my best friend was now upset with me—how did our conversation turn so serious in a matter of mere seconds? I caught Balthazar's eye in his rear-view mirror. Grandmother would know of this incident.

-x-

_10:27p.m._** Tuesday: 26****th**** April**

Who's overjoyed? I am! Why? I won our debate on one minor flaw in the other team's argument; come on, with a name like mine and families like the Novak's, Winchester's, and the Milton's, religion and mythology didn't stand a chance at being conquered by anyone but our team.

I'm so elated that I can honestly say I enjoyed having my entire family in one room—and the ceiling DID NOT fall. Oddly enough, Michael and Mr. Shurley (I suppose I could get in the habit of calling him Chuck) get along just fine; even if father is a bit stiff in his kindness. I think he's just glad Mom's happy again. That's love right, when you're happy because the other person's happy? Even without you.

On another note that won't make me queasy, the students who realized that my mother was the eccentric date of Mr. Shurley's, a few thought it was cool. Some gave odd looks, but I presume with what's about to happen in my life outside of school, Becky dating Chuck is nothing. Not even a speck on the radar of becoming a crowned prince.

I did ask Balthy about my lack of female preference, he said, "Castiel, darling, if you think being the quaint little homosexual you are is going to be a problem for anyone, well, you're far more sheltered than I gave your mum credit for." In Balthy language, that's a big resounding no! He also told me that a lot of suitors would be lining up once I actually returned to our capital city. Will I not get to choose my partner? Or will this be arranged? Ew.

Grandmother also treated our team AND THEIR FAMILIES to dinner. I wouldn't even want to fathom what the bill cost her, then again, it didn't put a dent into her coin. She said I should get used to having a ridiculous amount of money as I have my own portion, let alone what I will inherit from her and Michael.

Get this, the city of Enoch; we have our own language and everything. I need to brush up on it; I always thought grandmother was speaking to me in some posh version of Greek, yeah, no. On that note, I recall during dinner grandmother and Crowley were conversing with each other in Enochian, of all the people sitting at the table to understand then—Dean. That grease-monkey has been hiding actual intelligence this WHOLE time. With the exception of his musical talents—which you don't particularly have to be an intellect to pursue—I thought he was a Neanderthal! I almost feel like I should apologize. Madam immediately began a conversation with him; I only caught bits and pieces of it, but I know I heard my name quite a few times.

I'm not sure who will be the death of me—grandmother or Dean.


	5. I even have his stupid jacket

I wanted to bash my head in with my keyboard. I glared at my computer screen once more: **Message from Imp67**, yup, still flashing at the bottom of my tool bar.

**Imp67: You do know it's rude to ignore someone who is attempting polite conversation, don't you?**

**Imp67: Cassie, I can do this all evening until YOU log off. **

**Imp67: I would like to ask what your recent make-over is about…did you finally hit puberty? **

That one did it.

_**AngelofThrs: I can block you, you know.**_

**Imp67: You'd have done it already! If you really meant it that is…admit it, you secretly enjoy my attention. ;)**

_**AngelofThrs: Can I please talk to Sam? **_

**Imp67: Wow, I got a please this time! Usually you inflict some sort of verbal arsenal that I'm pretty sure you think leaves me licking my wounded ego in a dark corner; hate to break it to you Cassie, I merely feel slightly insulted when I have to use a dictionary for some of the harder words. Most times I'm impressed with your vocabulary. No one besides Sammy speaks to me like that so it really is impressive.**

Wow, I think that's the most Dean has ever spoken to me in our entire acquaintanceship. At the very least, the most honest he's ever been with me.

**Imp67: Cassie?**

**Imp67: Castiel?**

**Imp67: Cas?**

**Imp67: Look, sorry, I know that was kind of out of line.**

_Imp67 has logged off._

-x-

_8:53p.m. _**Friday: 29****th**** April**

If there was ever a time I would compare myself to that of a 12-year-old school-girl with a crush writing about it in her diary—RIGHT NOW WOULD BE IT. I kind of hate myself a little for it, but not as much as I probably should.

Get this, Dean Winchester, yes, THAT Dean, opened up to me tonight. Granted it was for only a moment and in the midst of being a complete assbutt and not letting Sam and I discuss my friggin' ball. I wonder what Grandmother would think of the term assbutt? Not important.

On the way to school this morning Sam had to ask me if I broke Dean's ego last night. I couldn't even respond; he assumed my silence was in the affirmative and laughed. Also, speaking of school, Raphael Eaton—he's probably the most handsome boy in school, dating Lilith Stanley—the supposed prettiest girl in school, he spoke to me today. Granted he's no Dean Winchester—I will deny this to my grave [so any future books or memoirs published using this, that statement is stricken from ALL records!]—but he's still handsome. All he said was, "Hello, Castiel right? Yeah, can I get into my locker?" He looked right at me, even smiled. Sam had to slap me at lunch because I was apparently in a daze.

I am so pathetic! Seriously! Look at me, it's a Friday night and I'm home alone, even my Mother is out on a date! Well Balthazar too, or rather he and Crowley decided to go out for drinks and compare horror stories—I don't think he'd be too thrilled to know I called their outing a date. Grandmother even convinced my dad to take her out, show her what he liked about this place. I could go to the café I like, get a drink and see what performances are going on tonight. That reminds me, I can't even talk to Sam because he apparently got asked on a date today—by whom you ask—Gabriel Milton. That douchenozzle asked my best friend out! I didn't even know Sam liked guys. I thought he and Jess had this thing going on, but apparently they're only really good friends.

Oh great, there's someone buzzing trying to get in. I didn't order any food.

-x-

"Name and reason for visit."

"Er, hey Cassie, it's uh, it's Dean, can, can I come up?"

My eyes widened.

"Sam's not here."

I bet he's nervous, he sounded nervous; that means he's probably scratching the back of his neck—it's something he does when he's nervous.

"I uh, I know. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh…er, well, I was…I was going to head out for a coffee, can we, can we talk there? Becky doesn't like it when people are over and she's not here."

As soon as I let go of the intercom button I slammed my head into the wall—how moronic could I actually be right now?

"Sure."

"I'll be right down."

I ran back to my room and in the midst of yanking my shirt off I realized I was freaking out over what I was wearing for _Dean Winchester_. I tugged my shirt back down and smoothed out some wrinkles; I wasn't meant to impress him. I didn't have to impress anyone. I slipped on my flip-flops and headed back to the door. Grabbing my keys and taking a deep breath I opened the door and took the trek down. I could make out the blurry shadow of a figure standing on the other side of the complex doors.

I ran a hand through my hair and pulled it open; the distressed looking guy on the other side was not what I was expecting.

"Did _you_ know that _some_ _guy_ was going to be taking Sammy out tonight? Did you even know that Sammy would've _accepted_ a date from another _guy_? I mean, he, he just said he had a date and around five he got a text, said his goodbyes and rushed out the door. Not even Mom asking him for details sto—mmph!"

I placed my hand over his mouth.

"Hello to you too. Take a deep breath and calm yourself. I don't need you to hyperventilate and pass out because you're freaking out over something that has _nothing to do with you_."

He shook his head, dislodging my hand and stepped back. He glanced me over and scratched the back of his neck.

"I woke you up didn't I? I'm sorry I was just, I mean, hey Cas."

I rolled my eyes and started walking; he quickly fell in step beside me. He was fidgeting as we walked; playing with the ends of his jacket sleeves.

"To answer your questions, no, I didn't know who he was going on a date with, or that he'd accept a date from another male. What's the big deal? I mean besides it being Gabriel Milton; did you know _he_ threatened _me_ because his little sister came on to me and I turned her down? He's the school's clown; obnoxious, but I have to admit he can be quite hilarious."

He grabbed my arm and jerked us to a stop.

"You mean to tell me that the douchenozzle that's taken Sammy—_our_ _Sammy_—out on a date is that spazzy short-stop that pulls pranks?"

I nodded; his other arm grabbed onto me as well. He pulled me closer as he closed his eyes—in frustration—now was not the time to let my stupid twelve-year-old-school-girl crush antics come into play.

"I'm going to kill him. I am! Where'd they go? He'd have at least told you that? Text him or something, ask him where he is!"

I tugged myself out of his grip and started walking away—was he serious? I believe so, but I wanted no part in ruining Sam's evening—for I'm certain that's what Dean has in mind.

"_Our_ _Sammy_, as you like to call him, is a big boy Dean. Permit him an evening out with company of his choosing. If it were a _girl_ I doubt you'd be this hung up about it."

I may have been a bit haughty as I tossed that over my shoulder at the now wide-eyed older Winchester. Quickly turning my attention back to where I was going I glanced up at the cross-walk just ahead—I could go left and get that cup of coffee, turn around and escape into my complex, go right and get some gross coffee but amazing pie, or go forward and hide in the bookstore. As far as I knew Dean didn't do books.

I inwardly groaned as the walking-man turned to the flashing-turned-solid red hand. I couldn't turn around to see if he had followed or was still standing back a ways rather dumbly. A hand tugging on my shirt sleeve confirmed he had chosen to follow—don't even get me started on us using the same term to insult Gabriel.

"I feel like I should say I'm sorry, so I'm sorry…I don't do these chick-flick moments, so take it, that's the best you'll ever get out of me…can, can we get some crappy coffee but I swear the pie is divine? I'll even buy."

I stared. I couldn't help it! Who was this guy beside me? I felt like I didn't even know him, and believe me, I would be writing about this later. I nodded after a few seconds of merely staring him down—it unnerved him when I did it—he looked physically relieved at my agreement.

-x-

_Later_ **Friday: 29****th**** April**

I can't even fathom making any sort of sense right now. I just spent the evening—MY FRIDAY NIGHT—with Dean Winchester. And I LIKED it! What is wrong with me?

I even have his stupid jacket—oh man, his jacket! That's why Mom grinned at me when I finally came in. She'll want to question me in the morning.

He took me to that dingy diner I love for their pie, and get this, we both like the apple. He told me he escapes there sometimes just to have a slice or two if he's really got to think about something. It was like I was sitting in a sticky, cracked/torn-vinyl booth with that grime only diner tables can have, with a completely different person.

He told me his parents are very open-minded individuals and that had they realized Sam was going out with another boy they'd have simply asked to meet the guy. When I asked why he freaked out he changed the subject to the night Grandmother and I saw him sing. I must've blushed tomato red a handful of times during his stories about him and his friends in their band. He was told to attend that night at the café by his friend Jo; apparently she convinced him he should showcase his talents wherever and whenever he could. I couldn't bring myself to ask him why he chose me to sing to.

I think the only downer or two actually, for tonight was around 11, Grandmother called to remind me of our lessons tomorrow evening. We're addressing my ball attire and proper etiquette. Gag me with a spoon! However, the worst of the two downers, Meg and Anna walked in the diner not too long before Dean and I left. They sauntered like the harlots they are over to our table and attempted to flirt with the two of us. When they realized I was simply attempting to ignore them they turned their entire focus on Dean.

They began questioning him, asking him if I had put out for him yet like I had with them. They asked if he was the reason why I wasn't putting myself out there at school, why I wouldn't date them; Dean didn't help, he turned into the smarmy assbutt he's capable of being. He told them I could make him make noises even porn stars couldn't duplicate, and that he could make me scream and beg. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me down.

Come Monday morning my entire reputation will be ruined, and what if Mr. Shurley—Chuck—hears about these rumors? Will he tell Mom? Would he attempt to talk to me about them? OH NO! What if Grandmother finds out? Especially with my big debut coming up soon. Can I go die now?

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**Hello my darlings!**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I had fun writing it. :)**

**I'll be gone this Thursday through the 9th of July; I'm going to Texas. I may have access to a computer whilst there, so we'll see if I can spare you lot an update. Can't promise anything!**

**Thank you for all the faves, alerts and reviews thus far! I always grin like a fool! :D**


	6. You look like a confused puppy

**Hello my darlings! **

**There are no words to apologize for my lack of updating since I've returned home! -.- (I also hope I got all mishaps, please point 'em out if I've missed any!)**

**My trip was akward at best and worst; the highlight: bonding with my bestie's seventeen year old cousin. I tell y'all, nothing says you're single and a tidbit nerdy when you bond with a 17-year old boy over Harry Potter and show him the ropes on Pottermore. I've nine years on the kid, but fret not, there is no interest whatsoever going on between us. We're both socially awkward and didn't want to mingle with everyone else so we stuck together. Self-preservation was in full force. XD**

**I saw Magic Mike and I have to say I actually enjoyed it for the plot. Yeah it was a bit cheesy and whatnot, and I cannot deny the dancing was definitely a bonus, but I liked the plot. I'm a sucker for the underdogs, what can I say? **

**I start classes Wednesday so updates will definitely become random at best. I will be a teacher one day, I swear it! I will travel the world teaching English to others whilst I see places I long to see. :) **

**Hope all is well my dears! **

**-J.**

* * *

**Monday: 2nd March**

I am dead. So very dead even zombies, ghouls, ghosts, vampires, and Frankenstein's monster, they'll all seem more alive than I.

I'm sitting in the headmaster's office hiding from everyone else. Mr. Shurley and my dad are waiting for Grandmother and Mom to arrive. Balthazar is glaring daggers through the closed blind on the door—as if that's going to make a difference.

Why am I sitting here? Someone spilled the beans. Someone told that I am a friggin' prince and now the whole freaking town's going to know. I know it wasn't Sam, I just told him Saturday. Like I said, he took it rather well and promised he wasn't mad anymore, he understood.

Michael and Chuck are conversing, even if it's forced, stiff politeness. I wish Mom were here, at least she and I could use our quirkiness to make each other feel comfortable.

-x-

"_Madame_ is here."

I slammed my book shut and quickly tossed it into my bag. It was a mad bout of shuffling throughout the room; we were all making sure we looked presentable—even dad was smoothing out his invisible wrinkles.

The door was jerked open and Grandmother walked in closely followed by Crowley. I braced myself; I've never felt so out of whack before. All these emotions whirling through me, I could cry, laugh, or vomit right now. I'm just not sure which would actually make me feel any better.

"You do understand what's expected of you now don't you?"

The room went silent and I felt five pairs of eyes rest on me, all waiting for my response. Throughout all of my lessons, and even the few stilted conversations between Michael and I, it was always impressed upon me that I am to keep my head held high no matter what happens.

I nodded the best I could; which actually meant I looked like a complete moron who had no idea what to do.

"Castiel, I mean it. You now are a publicly recognizable face for all that we stand for. Every action you make, every choice you decide, it will all be monitored and dissected under every ounce of scrutiny one can muster. Now, who have you told?"

My eyes grew large and I spluttered. She was staring at me down her nose—disappointment, I knew this look.

"That Samuel Winchester boy?"

I nodded; I don't think I could speak even if my life was on the line.

She pursed her lips and sat down at the desk. She glanced at me and then around the room.

"Gentlemen if you'll excuse us, I need to speak with my grandson alone."

She gave each of them a piercing glance, her eyebrow arched; it only took seconds for them to clear out of the room.

She perched herself in the headmaster's chair and let out a long, deep sigh. Then she did something that shocked me; she lent forward on her elbows and rested her head in her hands.

"I'm sorry Castiel. Words will never be able to express how apologetic I am to you in this situation. Your father and I were born and raised in this lifestyle and here we are thrusting it upon you out of no where and holding expectations of you no mere teenager should."

I could only tilt my head in response.

"Darling, don't do that, royalty or not, all that does is make you look like a confused puppy."

She smiled at me and I smiled in return.

"You do know what this means though, don't you?"

I nodded. It meant Balthazar was no longer an option. He would be in my eye-sight at all times. People were going to do their hardest to get my attention—all for the wrong reasons.

"You do know you still have the option to turn down the throne; you are first in line since you are the legitimate heir. It will turn to a distant cousin if you choose to renounce your claim."

She gathered herself and stood up; I watched as she came and sat beside me. She pressed a kiss to the crown of my head.

"Castiel, do not think for one moment that if you renounce your claim that your father and I will remove all ties with you. While I may not have always been the kindest or left you with the fondest of memories growing up, I have finally learned to put being a grandma before my duty as a queen. I would very much like to continue being your grandma even if you choose not to become the next crowned prince; that being only if it's alright with you."

The look on her face let me know I had to think this over.

"Can I give you the answer at the ball?"

She measured me in her glance; the tiny smirk let me know I made the correct decision.

"I look forward to whichever decision you make. However, you're to finish the afternoon classes you have here, but you and I will reschedule for tomorrow evening."

Despite the dread of completing today, I grinned and nodded at my grandmother. She stood, smoothing out her skirt and blazer, and then pressed yet another kiss to my head.

"Oh yes, I knew I've been forgetting to mention something to you; you'll need an escort to the ball. I suggest you choose your own or the one that will be supplied for you will undoubtedly make for a dreadfully dull evening. I speak from experience."

She winked and was out of the door leaving me alone for the first time in weeks.


	7. My knight in shining armor

**Sorry for the delay my dears (& any mishaps that may still be present!)!**

* * *

"Darling we can't stay in here all evening, the school _does_ close despite popular belief."

I tugged my knees tighter to my chest as I sat perched atop the toilet seat in a locked stall. I was staring down at Balthy's shiny shoes beneath the door in front of me.

"Look Cassie, I'm going to tell you this right out, these people are not going to be easy on yo—"

"Cas!? You in he—oh, it's you, is he in there? Cas if you're not going to come out at least let me in."

It was Sam. Sam had come to find me. I uncurled my legs and slowly stood up and unlatched the stall door and pulled it open. I took in the concerned faces of both Sam and Balthazar staring down at me. Sam immediately pulled me in to a hug.

"You're an idiot, I hope you know that! You think I'd leave you to deal with all this on your own? You should've had someone come get me this morning, I freaked when you weren't in class earlier. Then everyone started talking, the cameras started showing up and then when I heard the teachers start talking, saying what _you_ told me, I knew someone leaked your secret—it wasn't me! I couldn't find you and I couldn't find him and I've been looking for you all da—"

"Sam!"

"Sorry."

"Thank you."

I just smiled at him. It was all I could do after saying thanks.

I took a deep breath and stepped away from him and offered a weak smile at Balthazar. He grinned and ruffled my hair.

"Come on Cassie, we'll take your giant here and get some ice-cream. I can even get us incognito—look at that, fancy word—transportation. Winchester, your brother's picking you up today correct?"

"Yeah—yeah, he'll do anything for some food! He always meets me around back too; we don't even have to go out front."

"Knew I liked this brainy friend of yours."

I could only stare at them. Dean—Dean's _car_—incognito, were they serious?

"Are you guys serious? That thing is the loudest car I've ever heard in my entire life! They'll be peeking in the windows for certain! No."

-x-

_Later_ **Monday: 2****nd**** March**

I don't even know where to begin. I mean grandmother wants me to get my own date for the ball—MY OWN DATE! Who in their right mind would accompany me to a friggin ball? Sam would, but he said his family was already going. Already going! Oh my gosh, that means his whole family's going to be there, his brother—Dean was going to be at the ball.

Turns outs the Impala can be an inconspicuous get away car. How a trio as awkward as Balthy, Sam and I got out of school unnoticed is beyond me. Sam made me bribe Dean; I think he did it on purpose. He knows we can't tolerate each other; though it was fun for the both of us to interrogate him about his date with Gabriel. Then Balthy let it slip that Dean sulked to my house and we went for pie so he had to ask how our date went—neither of us corrected him.

Doesn't mean I like him, well maybe it does. I don't really know how this whole liking someone actually goes. Sam's date went well though. He said Gabriel's going to escort him to the ball, he even asked grandmother for permission. So he can't even be MY date!

My thoughts are all over the place today; it was most definitely not the best of days. I can only imagine how tomorrow morning will go, let alone the rest of the day. Balthazar finally told me what he was going to say before Sam barged into the restroom earlier. People are disgusting, I'll find out who really wants to be my friend and who just wants a piece of fame. Why do I have to learn this? People really do that to other people?

I talked to Becky about it, well her and Chuck; he was having dinner with us. They said that I should just ignore everyone, I had Sam and he was my friend first and would remain so. I didn't need new ones. I guess they have a point. No, they really do.

I could ask Dean to escort me; I mean he is already going. What if he already has a date like Sam? Why am I being such a twelve-year-old-school-girl about this? It wasn't a date the other night was it? Did I really have my first date with Dean Winchester? I kind of forced it on him if that was the case.

I can't believe I'm freaking out in my journal right now. Well I can, I have had a pretty rough day. I get out-ed as the crowned Prince of Enoch, the school pretty much falls apart with rumors and all other sorts of drivel that people come up with to make me look horrible. I have to escape in Dean's car, my savior—my knight in shining armor, or rather an old leather jacket—is Dean friggin Winchester! I owe him. He told me. Assbutt! I don't owe him! He should be grateful I agreed, okay no, I really do owe him. I would've been forced out the front doors with only Balthazar as my bodyguard against the horde of people waiting for me.

This sucks. It really, really does. How do grandmother and dad do it? Can I really live the rest of my life knowing my every move will be watched? Can I truly tell the person I want to spend the rest of my life with that their, our, every move will be watched? Our adorable, genius, Asian babies will be watched like hawks?

I can't even run away. Balls! This really does suck. Running away would create a scandal and make everyone look bad all around. Especially since I have no idea how to survive on my own; I'm too socially awkward and inept to do so. I guess it's a good thing I can own up to that. I suppose tonight's going to be yet another long, sleepless one.


	8. Dear Blue Eyes

**Thursday: 5th March**

I'm grounded. Becky actually had to ask Chuck on how to go about doing it properly. Becky even convinced Grandmother that our lessons have to be carried out here rather than at her hotel until next Friday. The ball is just over a week away and I still haven't gotten the guts to ask someone to take me.

I'm still recovering from the black eye I received on Tuesday. It put me in the newspapers and magazines; this publicity is really going to grate on my nerves. I like my privacy, but as Michael and Grandmother have pointed out, if I choose to become the crown prince, or the Crown Prince, my privacy is no longer my privacy, it is the city of Enoch that I am to be concerned about.

I'm freaking out again, not quite like I was on Monday when everything fell apart and went to hell in a hand-basket, but it's kind of close enough for my taste. I skipped out on lessons last night and hid out in Sam's room at the Winchester's. Mary called Mum directly after school—neither Sam nor I was aware of this—told her where I was and upon my return from school today Becky and Chuck awaited my arrival.

Gabriel met the Winchester's last night too, so it was neat to be part of that. He was respectful and they fell for his charms. I see why Sam likes him so much. They compliment each other in ways each other lack. Where Sam is calm and serene, Gabriel is noisy and chaotic. He and Dean didn't get on, and for about two hours I was left with said Winchester while Sam and Gabriel were under "scrutiny" of Mary and John.

We sat in his room, the door locked from the inside—keeping them out of his sanctuary. He told me no one but Mary ever gets to go inside. I felt like an intruder, but I also felt elated and honored and yet, and yet I felt like he was still this thing that was out of my reach. He played for me again; played the song he sang to me—he sang for Cassie. He's the only person besides Balthy that calls me that. He played me a few other songs too. Sam Winchester is not the only Winchester genius. I think Mary and I are the only ones who know this.

With the exception of the night of our not-date-date (he said if I wanted it to be my first date it could be; I haven't decided which yet) I think last night was another glimpse at the Dean Winchester that not a lot of people get to see. We talked in between songs. We talked about a lot of things. He asked me about how I felt about what was going to happen to me, if I wanted to do it, could I do it, and I told him. I told him the truth about everything. I told him things I haven't even admitted to Grandmother yet.

However, there's this thing that I should've started out this entry with that I didn't, apparently this grounding business took precedence over my big news of today. I go to my locker like I do EVERY DAY after lunch, I open it up, and on top of my books is this envelope with my name on it. Someone wrote me a letter and signed it with that stupid cliché "Your Secret Admirer." Are we back in middle school? Do these people not realize I don't like girls? Is there another guy out there willing to admit that he likes guys too? Is this a joke? That was my first and initial reaction and the one I'm sticking with. I can't take it seriously—I don't need this right now.

I'm grounded. I've got a ball to prepare for. I've got Princely duties to fulfill (if I so choose). My stupid crush (yes, I've finally admitted it) on Dean Winchester has finally erupted to full force and I can own up to being the twelve year old school girl that apparently lives within me about it. I do not need an outside force ruining whatever delusions I have going on in that department; even if it would get me a date for the ball.

-x-

I tossed my pen and journal on the floor and flopped backwards on my bed. That stupid, stupid letter, how could I have forgotten about it!? I reached over to my nightstand and blindly searched for the crumpled sheet of paper.

_Dear Blue Eyes:_

_I like you. I think I always have, even before I knew who you were. _

_-Your Secret Admirer_

So maybe letter was a bit strong in choice of word, but what am I supposed to do with this? I crumpled it back up and tossed it back on my night stand.

Balthy's probably getting whatever embarrassing stories he can out of Becky since the couch is his new bed. Fortunately no one has figured out our home address, I can only imagine what would happen if the general public knew that.

This being grounded blows. At least Chuck convinced her not to take my computer away, which means I still have internet access—he claimed I still have homework to do. Having nothing better to do I logged on hoping that even Dean was on his computer.

**Samsquatch: Which delightful pal of Sammy's is oh Angel of Thursday, oh wait a minute, wait a minute, is this that big, blue eyed hunk of man meat that was here the other night? Cas right?**

**Samsquatch: I know what your name means due to religious affiliations of my own (and it's your username; do you like Sammy's new one? I came up with it all on my own! He wouldn't let me call him LeMoose. ::sigh:: He also told me that if this name popped up I had to not use shorthand or chatspeak, you wouldn't understand what I would be saying.). Were your parents just overly zealous or freaks? Mine are over zealous and ended up with a freak kid. This is Gabriel, Sammy's beau if you haven't figured it out by now.**

**Samsquatch: You're not very talkative are you? Oh, Sammy says I should silence my own one-sided monologue over here so that you may actually get a word in edge wise. Speak Castiel, the messenger of god demands it! **

_**AngelofThrs: Hello Sam and Gabriel. I'm grounded so technically I'm not even supposed to be on the computer, but Chuck convinced Becky to let me keep my computer for homework purposes. **_

**Samsquatch: You answered NONE of my questions Cas, what's up with that? Who's Becky and Chuck? Mr. Shurley's first name is Chuck? How do you know that? Oh wait, Sam just told me, Becky's your Ma, why do you call her Becky? And OH MY GOD, isn't it AWKWARD having Mr. Shurley at your house like that? I think I'd be weirded out if my Ma or Dad was dating a teacher. I'm rambling again.**

_**AngelofThrs: It's quite alright Gabriel. I'm used to it by now actually. It's not as awkward as it was in the beginning. There are more pressing family matters I have going on than that of my Mother's dating life at the moment.**_

**Samsquatch: Oh yeah, so those rumors are true, you're a Prince? Like crown and all? That blonde guy's your body guard?! Can he kill someone with his pinky? Has he ever killed someone for you? Oh great, Dean-o found out we're talking to you, now he wants to confess his undying love for you—Sammy's smacking me, says it's on your behalf in reference to the aforementioned comment about Dean's love. **

**Samsquatch: Wait, you mean you two aren't dating? I thought that you two were totally cool with sucking face in his room while I charmed the parental unit the other night. Just friends? I can't believe it, are you two just friends? Tell me what Sammy says isn't so? No way can what I saw between the two of you be "just friends!"**

_**AngelofThrs: Sam does not need to resort to violence; however, in this case I understand his reasoning. I am not a crowned prince yet. Yes, he is my body guard and as far as I know, he does know how to kill with his hands and has. I am not his first royal subject. I do not know to what you are referring. Dean and I are hardly friends. **_

_**AngelofThrs: Perhaps friend is too strong a word. I know him; have for a while—as is natural since Sam is my best friend. I do see him a lot due to the time spent in Sam's company. We do exchange pleasantries at times and the other night was not entirely a fluke. I did enjoy myself.**_

**Samsquatch has logged off. / / Imp67 has logged on.**

**Imp67: "Dean and I are hardly friends." What the hell am I to you then Cas? Chopped friggin' liver? **

_**AngelofThrs: You did not see my reply then.**_

**Imp67: Oh, um, no. Sorry.**

_**AngelofThrs: It's alright Dean. I merely told Gabriel that while I think friend is too strong a word, I do enjoy your company and the other night wasn't a fluke. I had fun. **_

**Imp67: You did? Good. Great! I mean, don't tell them what we did; I don't share that with them. **

_**AngelofThrs: You're extremely talented, I don't see why not. I imagine they would be extremely supportive of your endeavors.**_

**Imp67: Nah, Sammy's the genius. He's the sensitive one. I'm in deep water right now because an old flame of mine, she's in the middle of a pregnancy scare, the kid might (dear lord I hope it's not) be mine.**

_**AngelofThrs: Oh. You're not grounded?**_

It was a few moments before he posted a reply. I thought I offended him.

**Imp67: Cas you're hilarious! I haven't laughed that hard in a while. Thanks man. No, I'm not grounded. Mom and Dad know I chase skirts and lift shirts, I'm fairly certain Lisa's kid ain't mine. The guy she slept with after me, this kid has his name all over it; timing is EVERYTHING when it comes to making babies Cas. You should remember this from sex ed. **

_**AngelofThrs: I thought I offended you at first when you didn't respond right away. Lisa, the girl you doted on before you graduated last year? I recall that portion of health class. It doesn't apply to me, I tuned it out. As you say, I'm strictly a shirt lifter.**_

**Imp67: Well shit Cas, when the hell were you going to tell me that? Sammy never said a thing about it. He does know right? This isn't you coming out right? Can you even be gay being a prince and all?**

_**AngelofThrs: Sam was the first person I told, years ago. I was informed that my sexual orientation is not of import. My suitors will be still well matched to me as the next crowned prince. I will not be forced into a loveless marriage with a spouse I will not want to consummate the bond with. **_

**Imp67: Suitors?! You're going to be forced to matched and paired with friggin' suitors?! Well matched? Who's doing the matching? Do you get a say at all? Or is this something that they "imply" you have "choice" in but really you don't get a choice and you do end up with some douchenozzle for a husband? **

**Imp76: Are any of these suitors going to be at the ball?**

_**AngelofThrs: Of course. Grandmother told me that unless I acquire a date myself, one of those potential suitors will be my companion for the evening of the ball.**_

**Imp67: Does this date have to be anyone specific or can it just be anybody? Those guys aren't going to know you! How boring of a night is that going to be, stuck on the arm of some guy you don't even know?**

_**AngelofThrs: That's the point Dean. When I come of age to find a suitor to wed, I'm going to have to go through the process of being "stuck on the arm of some guy" I don't know so I can get to know him. **_

**Imp67: You mean to tell me that once you accept this crown, you're gone? Then you come of age and you have to get married to some guy, and unless you have one already, it's going to be some stupid show and pissing contest of yuppies to win you over?**

I could only stare at my screen. He was jealous. I may be naïve at times and slow on the uptake, but I could read his jealousy **loud** and _clear_. I couldn't help but grin to myself.

_**AngelofThrs: Who'd want accept my date request anyway? If I ask anyone I know it's just because they want to be seen on my arm for some fifteen minutes of fame. I want someone to be there for me, at least the suitors would see beyond my crown.**_

**Imp67 has logged off. **


	9. Murdered for keeping you

**Hello my darlings! I feel like it's been ages since I've updated this fic, and for that I do apologize. I've been working on Hands Clean (my CM fic) and I started another AU Desitel called _A Man of Affairs_. I've also been beta-reading for three users, so I've been busy. **

**This chapter may seem like it jumps around a bit, but it's a mixture of important information (well mostly one event) and filler tidbits. **

**I'll be away Thursday evening through possibly Monday afternoon, but definitely Fri-Sun=MIA. I'm attending the Halloween festivities Busch Gardens in Williamsburg, VA doles out annually with my goddaughter (and the rest of my other family).**

**I will most likely be starting my courses again, I was given a slight break-woo! But it's back to grinder with my education. I'm also job hunting. **

**I hope all is well with you lot! I hope your weekends are fantastic as well! :D**

* * *

"Sweet pea what's the matter?"

I spilled the rest of my cereal back into the bowl and glanced up at Balthazar.

"You mum's given you your favorite goodies for each meal as a way to make amends for this grounding buisness. I know you're not too worried about being stuck at home, keeps you out of the public eye, so I'm going to guess here and say it's a boy problem."

I felt my cheeks redden involuntarily.

"Got it in one! I am good. Did you find a date or will one be provided for you? Crowley's told me that your grandmother's under the impression you'll have your own date, and that she knows _exactly_ who it'll be."

I growled and just stared spouting off at the mouth.

"I'm tired of being the center of conversations. I'm tired of being in the spot light. I wish this hadn't have happened! I was normal for a freak a matter of weeks ago and now I have people I don't even know wanting to be my friend, wanting to take pictures with me or asking me to sign things. I haven't even accepted the crown yet!"

I could feel my eyes stinging and blurring—great, just what I need, tears.

"Cassie, how about you let it all out, we'll play hooky today. I'll even get that oaf of yours to be in on it. I mean it, don't hold it in like that, it's not good for you. You think you're the first I've ever seen cry? Believe me darling, a lot—and I mean a lot—of those high ups crack under pressure and break down. The public generally doesn't see it, but those of us that are behind the scenes, we do."

I pushed my bowl away and plunked my head down on the counter top. I mumbled into the counter, knowing he was going to ask me to repeat myself.

"Come again Castiel? Really, you should know better than to talk to inanimate objects, they're not very good at listening."

I sat up, cheeks still a flaming red.

"Balthazar, how do I deal with a jealous Dean Winchester?"

He smiled and chuckled a little.

"I guess I was off. That cretin Madame thinks is charming is what has your panties in a twist? Oh Castiel, we really need to get you out more."

-x-

**Friday: 6th March**

There was another note today. It was attached to a mixed-tape. A friggin' mixed-tape! I haven't had one of those in years. I had to dig out my old stereo just so I could listen to the thing. All old songs too, as if I really am some stupid twelve year old girl lying on my bed and twirling my hair around my finger giggling on the phone to my boyfriend of five minutes.

So maybe I am a bit on edge. Dean wouldn't answer my phone call earlier. Sam even bribed him, it didn't work. Nor would he respond to my messages on the computer. He is shown as being online.

Perhaps I should leave a note for my admirer and ask if they would like to be my date. Sam figured out that I was who "pissed Dean off" last night. He was apparently in a foul mood when they were getting ready this morning. Even John made a comment about his behavior.

I could just go over there. Demand he speak to me, invoke it as my right. Yeah right, who am I kidding? I can't even handle giving a presentation in class, how could I handle confronting Dean? Let alone this acceptance speech next Friday?

That running away notion sounds better and better every day. I could cash the bonds in my possession, they'd last me a good few months till I got myself established somewhere. I'm sure I could pass off as emancipated. I am no slouch with intelligence.

Oh my word, really: I Walk the Line by Johnny Cash. Who does this admirer think they are, giving me songs that I don't like admitting make me all slightly dewy eyed? How do they even know that I like that song? Do I have a stalker?

I'm done. I need out. Now.

-x-

I rewound the tape and started it over, allowing me some white noise to counter act what I was actually doing. I put my journal in my backpack; I gathered the small lock box that holds all my important documents and the bonds that Michael's sent me since birth.

Balthy was in the kitchen with Becky and Chuck, showing them a dish he favors. If they could remain distracted I could easily go out the fire escape—hallelujah for city living! I made the point of leaving my mobile phone on my bedside table.

I crept quickly and quietly from my room down the hall to mom's studio. I could smell the fumes from her earlier project—fate was on my side, the windows would already be open. I listened as the adults chattered and clanked in the kitchen, grateful for the small hallway that blocked view of the studio.

-x-

For someone so smart I can be really dumb sometimes. I just grabbed what I deemed important. I didn't think about immediate monetary needs, or the weather.

I walked to the one place in town that didn't require me to have any money, nor held an actual time limit on patrons.

"You're not as smart as you think are you Cassie. I have it on good authority tha—"

"Now you want to talk to me? You ignore me since last night and _now_ you want to talk, well _talk_ Dean Winchester, and you better talk and you better make it good and worth my time!"

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the sight of him. I could feel my cheeks flushed and my eyes tingle with that all too familiar sting as of late. He was staring at me with slightly wide eyes.

His mouth opened and closed, much like a fish.

I turned away from him. This was not my night.

"I want to take you to your ball. Yeah that's right, I finally said it. I want to take you as your escort to your ball. Can you at least look at me while I'm talking to you, really talking 'cause you and I know I don't do this for just anybody."

My eyes were blurry but I turned around, just making out his form standing a few feet away from me.

"I haven't finally lost it have I? You're really here, you mean that? You want to take me?"

He was moving closer, his blurry shape was getting slightly larger and more blurry. I blinked and the tears fell. Trailing down my cheek, migrating towards the corners of my mouth, but I felt two thumbs stop them in their tracks.

"Yes. It would be my honor to escort you to your ball Castiel, would you let me?"

I felt myself smile as I nodded—I didn't trust words. I think I'd choke out a sob or something else humiliating at the moment.

"Fantastic. Now are _you_ going to talk, I think you need to."

-x-

I jerked awake, my neck sore and cracked from the sudden movement. I realized immediately three things: 1) I was not in my room. 2) I was not in my bed. 3) I was lying on something, or rather some_one_.

I glanced down at the body beneath me, taking in the t-shirt and plaid flannel over it, unbuttoned and sprawled out, almost like wings. I watched as the chest rose and fell with each soft breath, then I quickly shifted my gaze to his face, reveling in the chance to look at him up close without his mouth moving, or his eyes open.

I took in the expanse of freckles that littered his cheeks and nose—I wanted to count them all.

"Well good morning to you too."

I tensed and shifted and stilled completely. I knew that mornings caused reactions in teenage males; Dean I suppose is no exception.

"Definitely a good morning to you Cas. Am I going to be murdered for keeping you out? Do you want to go home? Or am I taking you to my house so you can shower and change for school?"

I felt my cheeks flush as he slowly shifted his hips, rocking his groin up against my thigh—how could he carry on a normal conversation whilst he was violating me? I wasn't complaining, I am honestly curious as to how he can function. I don't know if I can answer him without letting out the noises I am holding in.

I just nod, rapidly as I breathe harder through my nose. I can feel my nostrils flaring and he finally opens his eyes and smiles. It's not toothy or even all that wide. His lips quirk just enough that I know it's more than a smirk; I let out a squeak—it truly was an attempt to keep in the keening noises I knew were building up within my throat.

He stills at the sound and places his hands gingerly on my hips, moving his left hand; the one not trapped by his backseat, up my side, then my arm and then up to cup my jaw. Instinctually I lean into the touch before I finally catch on and quickly maneuver myself away from him, climbing away and falling over into the front seat.

I am met with his laughter. It's smooth but rough around the edges from having just woken only moments ago. I quickly sat up and stared at him, wide eyed and I'm sure I looked a mess.

"Good morning Dean. Is that how you usually greet your conquests?"

His laughter stopped and he cut his eyes towards me, sitting up too quickly for my tastes. He leaned forward, arms resting on the back of the front seat and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. Not only are you supposed royalty, but you're also someone I actually give a damn about, I mean, I care what you think of me. I don't, I haven't, I'm not…"

One of his hands reached up to scratch behind his ear—he was nervous.

"Dean, it is alright."

"No, Cas, it's really not. Believe me, I, I want to, I want to do this right."

"I would have retreated a lot sooner if it was unwelcomed attention."


	10. You're not just anyone

**Saturday: 7****th**** March**

That Dean Winchester is a confusing human being! He asks me to the ball, we briefly fool around in the backseat of his car, he takes me to school—how did he not realize it was Saturday? The idiot! He doesn't say a word—A WORD! Not after he tells me that he wants "to do this right." What is this?

Once he realized no one was at school he quickly took me home. I've been holed up in my room for two hours now. Mom has been periodically banging on the door—I won't let her in. I don't want to talk to her. I can't. How could I? What do I tell her? Sorry your son's a coward and attempted to run away, but he can't even do that properly—sure that will go over quite well with her. She says grandmother's called twice; as grandmother too, not the queen. I do feel slightly special at that.

I made them all worry last night. Apparently the Winchester's got worried too when Sam had called, asking if he and I were going to work on some homework; he was to come over. Mom and Chuck thought I was there, Sam thought I was here. His parents got worried, and I suppose that's when Dean left and found me.

I wouldn't know, the imbecile wouldn't speak to me. He didn't answer a single question I asked him this morning.

Michael's even knocked twice now. His voice startled me since I was expecting it to be Becky; I almost let him enter. Then I realized I still didn't want to speak to anyone. Dean could knock on the door and I'd turn him away.

-x-

The window near my dresser opened and in tumbled Balthazar. I could only stare in shock as he climbed to his feet.

"You're not as impenetrable as you think _Fort Cassie_. Nor are you as clever. For somewhat of a genius you can be quite the imbecile. Now, it's just you and me here, I've no wires or microphones—just you and me. Let's have a chat about what's going on."

I nodded and shifted my legs, curling them beneath me so he could sit down at the foot of my bed.

"You really didn't think I wouldn't trail you last night did you? You happened to pass by the window of the place ol' Crowley and I was at. We followed you, till we realized where you headed, then I sent a message to that Winchester boy."

"So his concern was fake? He was just following orders?!"

That hurt, more than I should let it.

"Now, now Cassie, you're getting ahead of my story. I may have _sent_ him the message, _but_ he was already _aware_ of your M.I.A. status via Samuel. His reply was 'I knew something would happen to him the one night you take off. I already knew where to find him. I can see him approaching.' I can show you the message if you'd like."

He had been waiting for me. Dean was waiting for me. He was waiting and gave me a few moments to mumble to myself before he approached.

"Oh bother, if I knew it would get your panties all wet I wouldn't have told you."

I instantly felt my cheeks flame and tinge red—they skipped pink altogether—directly to instant mortification.

"That…Balthy!...You…"

"Ah, I've still got it. I do love it when I can make you splutter sweet pea. It's so endearing. Now I know you're stressed. You're not the first runner I've dealt with. Trust me, I've had them not come back. You could've left Winchester last night and none of us would know how to find you. I may slant your intelligence, but I do not ever doubt it Cassie. If you wanted to run, you'd be able to make it so no one could find you.

"But you came back. You're adapting to this better than most, and I'm comparing you to adults who have grown up in this lifestyle. No, I dare say your dilemma as of right now is Winchester. That darkening of your cheeks tells me I'm right.

"I watched the two of you walk towards his car, once it drove off I returned to Madame's hotel with Crowley. I told her you were in good hands. She does want to speak to you, talk to you about your _spending the night in the back seat of a car_, with a boy."

I buried my face in my hands.

"Nothing happened!"

"Come again Cassie, no one understands you when you speak into objects, though why you do that so often is beyond me."

I dropped my hands and leveled an attempted glare at him.

"Nothing happened."

He raised a brow. He didn't believe me. _I_ didn't even believe me—well of course I wouldn't believe me, _I_ was there, I _know_ what happened.

"Fine, it wasn't…my _virtue_ hasn't been in tact for a while if that's what everyone's worried about."

His shoulders were shaking—he was laughing at me!

"You're laughing! Those harpies took advantage of my obliviousness to their womanly whiles!"

He stopped moving and gave me this look I couldn't quite decipher. I hope that wasn't pity I recognized.

"You mean to tell me that you're no longer a virgin because of two ladies? Cassie, your gay is the worst kept secret I've ever stumbled upon and believe me, in all the royal families I've worked with, I've came upon some worst kept secrets."

"My gay?! What the hell is that supposed to mean? My gay? What am I, ill? Is it some label I'm supposed to wear?"

"No, and please do shut up. I simply mean that for all tense and purpose you're still a virgin. You haven't been deflowered in the way that matters to you."

I blinked and shook my head.

"What? What are you talking about? I've had sex! Therefore I am no longer a virgin. You can't just change the rules to make it so you have something else to mock me with now!"

"Darling, I'm being serious right now okay. All laughter aside, all jokes, all petty and vulgarities I dish out—it's all aside. You said it Cassie, those girls took advantage of your ignorance to the hetero inklings of sex. You have yet to have sex with a male, in the way that matters to _you_. I'm not saying go deflower your virgin arse, but I am saying if there's an opportunity and you're missing out on it for fear of the changes that are happening in your life right now, don't blow it. If it's Winchester that's doing the avoiding, well then, just say the word and I can have a lovely little chat with him."

I threw my pillow at his head. He laughed. Fell over, clutching his sides laughter. I joined in too.

When we calmed down after a few moments—everything had sunk in and I let my emotions get the better of me and get the release I haven't been allowing them—Balthazar leveled me with a stare before he gave me the faintest, yet most genuine smile I had ever seen grace his features.

"Are you ready to face the rest of the world now? Or do you need a few more hours of teenage-girl-angst-like-moping?"

"You're insufferable!"

"You're ready. Come on, up you go. Let's go get something to eat. Your father cooked up a nice dish—he cooks when he's nervous, or anxious, or when his child makes him feel completely and utterly helpless."

"Thanks for the guilt-trip."

He stood and offered me his hand, I allowed him to pull me up. Without hesitating I put my arms around his middle, in a hug. I felt his arms encircle me and one of his hands reach up and pat the top of my head.

"This didn't happen. Can't have everyone know I'm actually a softy on the inside."

We parted and headed towards my bedroom door. Before exiting I couldn't help making a remark.

"Balthy, that's _your_ worst kept secret."

-x-

**Later Saturday: 7****th**** March**

Michael is surprisingly a fantastic cook. I should ask him to teach me how. Perhaps it will help rekindle our father-son relationship that Becky's been harping on me about allowing to grow. Balthy wasn't kidding about it being his nervous tick though; there was enough food to feed one of my classes.

Sam came over. Well, Grandmother had him with her when she arrived. Crowley shared the same sentiments about Dean as Balthy did on his first interaction—"Madame thought that was charming?" He—Sam—is sort of very understanding now that I've told him everything, or rather filled him in the blanks that Grandmother left out. He also handed me a folded up piece of paper. It's a piece of Dean's composing sheets.

He's written me a letter on a sheet of his composition paper. Sam didn't know what the significance of that paper is. I do. I'd write about the letter but I'm still in shock and slight awe that such words can come from Dean. Then again I shouldn't be surprised, if he's capable of writing his songs and being that passionate about music, why shouldn't he have the same capabilities when it comes to expressing his inner thoughts/feelings in actual written form that's not lyrics?

I'm still grounded. I will be for another two weeks. I need to learn consequences come with each action. I've got the ball Friday and I've got my own date. Grandmother smiled, outright smiled, when I told her I had successfully acquired my own date. She didn't even inquire as to whom it's going to be, she merely said, "That young Mr. Winchester is such a charming fellow. Do treat him well Castiel." As if I'm the one with the behavioral problems! Well, I did run away. I do sulk a lot. I can be quite full of angst.

I still can't believe he wrote me a letter on one of his composition sheets. I am going to be like a twelve-year old girl about this because this is Dean Winchester I am talking about. He doesn't even share his musical genius with his family. Grandmother and I just happened to be out the night he took the small stage at the café. That night he let me in to his room and in on his talents, I think it was the first time I actually saw him. Not the obnoxious older brother of Sam. The high school drop-out with a G.E.D. who works as a mechanic to keep his distance from people; I thought I disliked interacting with people.

Sam and I used to watch him work when we were younger, or rather watch him help John on their vehicles. Sam and I would camp out on John's workbench with our homework in our laps as he and Dean would be messy from their fingers up to their elbows, the odd smudge here and there elsewhere from wiping a brow or cheek. They tried to get us to help last summer; Sam and I were perched on the workbench like old times. Dean was working on his Impala—he affectionately named her Baby—and John was working on his truck.

Sam jumped down; he was quick to do something with his dad. They had had a fight a month prior about college. Sam came to my place for a weekend. His mother came and fetched him that Sunday evening. Of course not after she and Becky talked for hours. I was minding my own business up on the bench, well, I was reading. A shadow fell over my pages and I glanced up into the eyes of Dean. I glanced over his shoulder; Sam and John were both under the truck.

"Come on Cas, let's get your hands dirty and that nose out of a book." He moved into my personal space and dropped the volume of his voice, "I don't just let anyone help with Baby, but you're not just anyone." He grinned and plucked the book out of my hands—it still has those grease-oil marked fingerprints on it.

I did help him that afternoon; got my hands dirty, all the way up to my elbows. I didn't learn till dinner, when I was washing up as per Mary's orders, that I had a smudge of grease on my cheek. He had touched me there, claiming I already had a smudge of oil. Thinking back on that day now, I recognize what the smiles that Mary, Sam, and even John gave the two of us meant. He liked me then.

I think I've always liked him too. I just never realized it.


End file.
